


The Sandman

by sunflowa



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Confused Park Chanyeol, Crazy Park Chanyeol, Dark, F/M, Horror, Love, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Park Chanyeol-centric, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Psychology, Scary, Sex, Uncanny, grotesque, literaturestudentswhereyouat, notwhatyouexpecttbh, sidechanbaek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 18:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13370343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowa/pseuds/sunflowa
Summary: They say a child usually forgets the small details quickly, even details to a significant event that happened. To this day, Park Chanyeol can still remember the night his eyes were stolen by the Sandman.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I'm transferring this fic over from another site. I'm slightly inspired by E.T.A Hoffman's "The Sandman". If know anything about the book, you'll know that this fic really isn't going to be what you normally read. I'm aware that people might not like it that much due to this, but I'm at peace with that.
> 
> You have to note that there is a pairing, but its not going to be the main focus of the story. This story actually follows Chanyeol's path towards insanity, though I won't elaborate too much. I'll be trying some stuff I learned at literature class so expect to get confused if you're not reading carefully enough. Again, if you're looking for fluff or smut, this fic is not the place to find it!
> 
> Since this is my third time writing a fanfic, and the first time writing a long one, don't expect me to come up with a prize winning novel or anything as deep as the original sandman. If there is anything I can improve on, or if any of you have any ideas on techniques I could try, please leave it in the comment section!!
> 
> xoxo,  
> yaboi sunflowa *sunflower emoji*

1962

 

Whenever the suited man rang the doorbell, Chanyeol was always been able to tell it was him, without even checking the grandfather clock standing beside the sofa. Chanyeol remembers the doorbell sounding louder and shriller whenever it was pressed by his fingers. The emitted sound always burrowed deep through the dips and grooves of Chanyeol’s ears, tickling the back of his eyes.

 

For two months straight, the same tall, lanky man had rung the doorbell at exactly 8.16 p.m. every evening. Whenever he entered the house, he would always pass by the living hall, where 9 year-old Park Chanyeol usually sat at after dinner, to reach the flight of stairs leading to his house’s second story.

 

“He is your father’s colleague, Chanyeol.” His mother had explained to him one night when he asked.

 

He could still remember the long shadow the man casted as he walked into the living room for the first time. It looked like it had come alive as an entity of its own, as it reached out to penetrate Chanyeol’s chest and ribcage. Alas, the man didn’t stray from his path towards the staircase, though he did stop to look at Chanyeol.

 

Chanyeol remembered how his head felt the compulsion to look up and skim over most of the man’s facial features, like a strong magnet had pulled Chanyeol’s attention upwards. He had focused on the other’s eyes, only to gasp as he saw nothing.

 

As if a button in him had been pushed, the surface of his skin started to swell with puffy goose bumps and his testes shrunk upwards into his body beneath his shorts. As much as his mind had screamed for him to look back down, Chanyeol’s head was unable to budge. In an almost wicked act of perversion, it had betrayed him and his own eyes felt heavy in their sockets, mesmerized by the state of nothingness the other man’s sockets had possessed.

 

Even as the man’s visits became ritual, Chanyeol was not able to calm all the turmoil that had irrationally plagued his physical being. The only thing that happened in light of Chanyeol’s repeated exposure was his eye’s unfathomable addiction to that stranger’s lack thereof. He was not sure why his parents never mentioned anything or acted out of the ordinary in light of the deviation. In his many attempts to bring up the matter with his parents, Chanyeol’s larynx had always squeezed its hard, visceral walls together to constrict sounds from leaving his throat.

 

One of the nights the man went up to talk to his father, Chanyeol was in his bedroom instead of the living room because of a fever that had left his mind hazy and body aching. Before then, Chanyeol’s mother had always kept an eye on him while she washed the dishes, as she didn’t want him to wander into his father’s study and disturb his meeting with the suited man.

 

That night, Chanyeol’s mother was not around to harness the childish boy’s childish curiosity. However, Chanyeol was not entirely sure if it was his curiosity that had driven him to creep towards the study with his aching body, or if it had been the flu that disabled his mind’s restraint on his treacherous body.

 

As he stood in front of the door to the study, he had been able to hear muffled talking from the other side. Chanyeol moved in slow, controlled movements to lean his ear against the door in an attempt to catch more of what his father and the stranger were saying on the other side. A bead of sweat formed on his feverish forehead as he struggled to make out words, but between his hazy thoughts and the hushed tones the two men seemed to have adopted, Chanyeol had not been able to understand anything.

 

He did not know what had possessed him to do so, but Chanyeol decided to open the door slightly so that he could hear better. He remembered how his warm, sick hand had almost jerked at the coldness of the brass door handle. Instead, it had slowly turned the knob and pushed forward, leaving a small gap for Chanyeol to hear through. Chanyeol could hear the rush of blood in his head as he leaned in.

 

Chanyeol stayed in that position with his breath hitched. The soft words Chanyeol heard had sounded perfectly normal at first. However, as Chanyeol continued to listen, he realised that his mind was unable to retain any of the speech in his memory.

 

Chanyeol tried to lean in closer and his tiny, feverish muscles started to make small spasms at the strain.

 

Chanyeol felt the words slip out through his ear like sand, flowing through the soft folds of his brain’s sensitive lattice to spill out through the small, tight earhole at the other side of his head.

 

It was at that point, more than ever ambiguously implied earlier in this narrative, that Chanyeol’s mental processes became over-evaluated in pure streaks of psychosis; where the reality he had seen and experienced in the psychological plane gained omnipotence over the physical plane. The sound of blood rushing in Chanyeol’s head was suddenly no longer that, but was, in light of the development in Chanyeol’s psyche, the sound of tormenting sand; rough and deafening.

 

As Chanyeol tried to continue listening, more and more of the sand had started to pump through his body, filling his head faster than it could be expelled. Chanyeol began to feel his face bloat. His nose felt drowned and he was certain that the snot in his nose had given way to the sand that started escaping through his nostrils. This had made his soft breathing turn painful as the sand flowed down his windpipe like molten tar.

 

As his skin stretched and his facial muscles tore, most painful were his eyes that felt like they were being pelted with scorching rocks from the depths of hell. He could feel them tearing themselves from his extraocular muscles, as if they were babies tearing their umbilical chords in classic acts of psychosis. They jumped out of their sockets and rolled off his face before disintegrating upon the impact of hitting the wooden floor. His dirty sockets spurted out dirty blood. He could feel it all.

 

Chanyeol was unable to hold himself up anymore as his body crashed through the door, the pain that had filled his face travelling through his small, spasming body as he struggled to breathe.

 

What happened after that was hazy to boy who was in pain, but he remembered a large hand wrapping around his tiny neck, the too-bony joints pressing painfully against his throat, lifting him into the air.

 

He remembered catching a glimpse of another hand reaching out to his face – his eyes, where they used to be, where loose strains of muscle now peeked out, where he then felt the most gut-wrenching ache he could feel at the front of his skull.

 

He remembered the black spots appearing in his vision.

 

He remembered his father’s frantic shouting.

 

And then he blacked out.

 

When his senses came to, he could feel himself being carried by someone. Chanyeol also noticed a distinct burning smell, the heaviness of its pungent odour filling his raw lungs.

 

He tried to open his eyelids. He felt an immediately sharp sting shoot to the centre of his eyeballs from the back of his eyes, and it spread towards the back of Chanyeol’s head. The first thing that filled the boy’s sight was that of glowing hellfire dancing that danced wickedly around a short row of buildings that Chanyeol was all too familiar with. The violent blaze ravaged what once used to be his and his neighbours’ houses, incinerating mercilessly and continuing to spread voraciously.

 

The man who was carrying him came to a stop and set him down onto dry, sharp grass, but he couldn’t make his body react. Even with the blaze right in front of him, the sweat covering his body left his mind cold and numb.

 

A pair of arms wrapped around Chanyeol as he stared into the inferno. He could make out the sounds of a woman crying into his shoulder, though the screams coming from the row of houses in front of him was the only thing he could hear clearly.

 

Chanyeol turned slightly to face his mother and stared at her face. Violent streaks of tears seemed to be running down her face, and her mouth was gasping for breath as she let out ugly sobs. Chanyeol felt the urge to shove his whole hand in to her throat to hear his thoughts better, but turned back to the row of houses in front of him as he finally felt his voice coming back to him.

 

He screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Chapter 2 is up. If you spot any weird consistencies in regards to naming and writing style, keep in mind that it is intended for uncanny effect and are of significance (they're not mistakes). Also pay attention to similar diction from Chapter 1. Enjoy!

1967

 

Love was always a curious thing to Park Chanyeol.

 

He remembered the many times his paternal grandmother went over to his old home. She was a stern old woman; her eyebrows were usually arched high and her wrinkled cheeks often sagged from the semi-permanent scowl she wore whenever she stepped into the house. Her skin always looked papery on her bones.

 

Back then, she would sit Chanyeol down on the floor of the living room while she took the wooden rocking chair that was stationed right next to the sofa. She would then rock herself on the chair for a few moments, before breathing in shallowly to retell anecdotes of her life. Many times, these stories would be about how she met her grandfather and the romance they had shared before he passed away from various maladies inflicting his eyes and prostate.

 

It was at those moments that the muscles around her eyes would loosen, and that she would bring her hand up to brush aside the thin, fragile grey hairs on her head. Her normally brown eyes would always look a little hazy, as if she was peering into the past of a time long gone.

 

Chanyeol still remembered the last time she visited the house. She told him again about the first time she had met his grandfather.

 

“We knew each other since we were kids, you know?” She repeated to him in the exact words Chanyeol grew familiar to. “We were meant to be from the start. That’s how God had intended love to be like.” As usual, his mother excused herself to her bedroom upstairs that day.

 

She had brought along with her a small sweater knitted for Chanyeol. It was the first time she had given him anything outside his birthday gifts, but the 9 year-old didn’t find it odd at that time. She had also brought some foodstuffs that Chanyeol knew his father enjoyed, and a sealed box that he was instructed not to open. She left the Park estate late in the evening, but not before glancing around at the living room like it was her first time in it. Not too long after that, she died.

 

Chanyeol looked down to his watch. It was 11.45 am. Groaning internally, he stared back up to the chalkboard his mathematics teacher was writing equations on. Mathematics had always been his weakest subject, and after a few moments of trying to decipher what was happening, Chanyeol got bored and started to look around the classroom to observe his classmates.

 

To his left, sat next to the row of windows, Kim Taeyeon was diligently copying what the teacher was writing on the board. Right behind her was Kim Minseok, diligently copying what the teacher was writing on the board. Turning his head right, Chanyeol observed Kim Jongin diligently copying what the teacher was writing on the board. In front of Chanyeol, Kim Namjoon had his head trained down to his desk, diligently copying what the teacher was writing on the board.

 

Park Chanyeol stared down at his notebook. Then he turned his head to Kim Hyuna at the front of the classroom, two seats from the left. She was diligently copying what the teacher was writing on the board. She had the fairest skin Chanyeol had ever seen. Her hair was jet black, very straight and very long, and her posture was clear indication of her family’s high social standing. Today, she was wearing a nice, short satin-coloured dress with small roses printed all over. Earlier that day, the roses had lead Chanyeol’s eyes all over Kim Hyuna’s body; her slightly cinched waist, her small dainty shoulders.

 

Kim Hyuna was a very attractive girl. She had the largest brown eyes and the nicest bone structure. Chanyeol also frequently stared at her thin, rosy lips and thin, long neck. The 14 year-old boy had always wondered what it would feel like, to caress those body parts with his own body parts.

 

The lesson was over. His classmates started streaming out, chatting loudly with each other. Chanyeol disliked being in big crowds. As far as he could remember, he had only ever played with the child that lived next door from his old house. His name was Byun Baekhyun, Chanyeol remembered when the other’s family had moved in. Baekhyun had forced Chanyeol to play with him, acting offended when he learned about the younger’s self-ostracising tendencies.

 

Chanyeol recalled one of the times Baekhyun invited himself over to his house. The older had brought copies of Marvel comics along with him to share with Chanyeol. It was issue #665 of a fan-favourite where the muscled superhero, wearing red underwear on top of a tightly blue body suit, had scooped the slim-figured love interest up from a building on fire. The stories were always took place in crowded cities where dreams came true.

 

They were flipping through the pages together on Chanyeol’s bed as Baekhyun was telling him how he heard rumours from his other friends that the hero and the lady get together on the next issue. Chanyeol decided to tell Baekhyun about some weird things that were happening to him at around 8 pm every evening. Baekhyun had laughed and brushed it off.

 

Chanyeol snapped out of his thoughts as he accidentally knocked into someone. The other got angry and called Chanyeol a “damned faggot”, before socking the lanky boy and pushing him on the floor. Chanyeol’s eyes darted to the side of the hallway where he caught sight of Park Hyuna near the lockers staring concernedly at him. Chanyeol’s eyes felt heavy. He stood up and charged at the other student before being shoved against the lockers. 10 minutes later, Chanyeol was in the toilet staring at himself in the mirror. The person in the reflection was him, but it wasn’t him. The person in the mirror had streaks of dried tears running down his cheeks, and Chanyeol didn’t remember crying. He heard a gasp come from behind him. Chanyeol turned around to see Park Hyuna standing a few meters from him.

 

“What are you doing here?” Park Hyuna nearly screamed, though she stopped herself as she saw the streaks of tears on Chanyeol’s face. She walked closer to him and asked him something he didn’t catch. He was only focusing on the way Park Hyuna’s faint deoderent was wafting into his nostrils. The way Park Hyuna’s teeth dug into her thin, bottom lip. The way Park Hyuna’s nice, short satin-coloured dress stretched across her bosom so nicely. Was this what love felt like? Next thing he knew, he felt a sharp sting across his cheek. Kim Hyuna had slapped him.

 

Park Chanyeol ran back home instead of walking that day.

 

When he got back to the small apartment his mother had rented, he expected her to call out to him like she usually did on Friday afternoons, before she headed for work. She told him that she was working at a diner. All he heard, however, was silence. The shadows around him stretched across the small living room. Somehow, Chanyeol began to feel entranced to walk further into his house, as if his eyes had managed to spot an invisible trail of breadcrumbs to follow.

 

Chanyeol was magnetised to his mother’s door. Suddenly, an unfathomable sense of dread filled Chanyeol’s being as the back of his eyes detected a distinct tingling. Gulping, Chanyeol reached for the knob of the door. His warm hand almost jerked at the coldness of the brass door handle. He slowly turned the knob and pushed forward.

 

Chanyeol picked out his mother’s body lying down unnaturally limp on her bed. His eyes widened.

 

“M-mum?” Chanyeol whimpered uncertainly as he walked in to the room slowly. In an instant, he saw him: a suited man hovering over his mother. He was wearing a cloak of some sort and adorned phallic-like protrusions on his shoulders. In place of his eyes were horrific voids. He was pouring a substance onto Chanyeol’s mother – on her waist, over her breasts, onto her face. It poured out of his hands with the speed of sand and spilled over with the viscosity of molten glass.

 

Chanyeol’s scream thrusted through his throat as his eyes felt an inexplicable sense of lascivious anxiety and fatalism. The suited man looked up at Chanyeol and smiled an ugly smile, before looking back down at the lying woman.

 

The man raised his hand, sticking two fingers out and reached for his mother’s face, towards her eyes. Chanyeol felt a gut wrenching ache at the back of his skull. He knew what was going to happen, but he couldn’t move. His body betrayed him in an almost wicked act of perversion.

 

Chanyeol screamed louder and louder, his throat starting to sting. His mother wouldn’t wake up, her eyes not opening, her muscles not showing any sign of reaction. Chanyeol felt moistness around his eyes. He stared helplessly at suited man shoving both fingers in, penetrating through the closed slit of his mother’s right eye. Dirty blood spurted out in long, red streaks. He scissored around in the socket. He relished the feeling, the feeling of taking someone’s eyes from their sockets to fill the void in his own. His eyes were taken from him too, once upon a time, in a fiery blaze that had killed his father, that had pushed his grandmother to drown herself, that had forced him to live with his lying mother in the small, dark, claustrophobic, apartment.

 

He felt empty, empty for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed that! I'm posting an explanation chapter after this, so expect Chapter 3 to come a bit later.


	3. Chapter 2: Explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Analysis and Exposition

Hi guys!

 

Thank you so much for keeping up with this fanfic if you are! Someone informed me that some of the nuances and references were lost in my writing of Chapter 2, so I'm going to leave an analysis of what happens here, without exposing so much what I intend to write about in later chapters. SO if you don't wish to let someone direct your interpretation and wish to interpret things yourself, feel free to skip this chapter. Also, do let me know if you'd wish for me to continue doing this (having explanations after each chapter) for the rest of the story or if you think there's a better way to do it.

 

Essentially, the themes I focused on in Chapter 2 revolved around Chanyeol's perception of love. From the start, Chanyeol is offered two distinct approaches to love. The first and undoubtedly more obvious one would be the love as "God intended to be", presented by the grandmother. This love is holy, relying on the build up of emotions from childhood and going through the conventional tropes of what we can consider a traditional romance. It was meant to be from the start, according to the grandmother, and that is her persistent, and if anything slightly misguided interpretation of the abstract concept of love.

 

The second approach to love is much more subtle as I do not explicitly present it to the reader. There is no explicit mention of it anywhere, but I do hint of an opposition to the traditional love the grandmother so wholeheartedly believes in. I follow her proclaimation of "God's intention" with a single unelaborated sentence – As usual, his mother excused herself to her bedroom upstairs that day. If you noticed that this sentence had a connection to the grandmother's speech, well done; why would a whole paragraph end with a single sentence that would be unrelated to the rest?

 

The father and the mother's love, as I have implied, has defied the grandmother's perception of love. The mother goes upstairs because of the friction she has with her mother-in-law, and the grandmother repeats the story so often and repeats to Chanyeol "in ... exact words" because of her strong disapproval, and possible resentment, towards the union of Chanyeol's parents.

 

So what, you might ask, is this alternative form of love? I hint more on the truth of the mother as I use puns on the word "lying" near the end of the chapter. The mother is seen by Chanyeol to lie on the bed, but after a while of narration he shorthands "lying on the bed" with "lying", so insinuative to the point of adopting an accusatory tone. The mother hasn't had any actual line in Chapter 2 except for the fact that she worked in a diner at night, or so Chanyeol says. Actually, he says that his mother told him she worked at the diner, not that she actually was.

 

What does this all mean? Essentially, Chanyeol's mother was a prostitute. She was the father's client at one point and they fell in love, and got married greatly against the grandparent's wishes. That explains why the grandmother hated his mother and tried to emphasise the highly traditional, romanticised and close-minded representation of love through her own anecdotes. After the death of the father and the destruction of the Park estate in Chapter 1, Chanyeol's mother was unable to support both herself and Chanyeol and with the grandmother commiting suicide (after her son's death), she had no choice but to work late shifts at the "diner", as in prostitution.

 

You might be thinking, sunflowa, this is stretching it too far. I'm gonna prove to you that in actuality, eveything in the present (Chapter 2) outlines the effects of Chanyeol having misconstrued thinkings regarding the subject of love; he is unable to decide between the traditional love and the laviscious love.

 

Now, before I continue, I must highlight one of the secondary effects the father's death has had on Chanyeol. Though definitely not its main function in The Sandman, the father's death marks the lack of a male role model in Chanyeol's life. He has no one to look up to, to learn from, to understand the mechanics of masculinity.

 

This will help you realise the reason I juxtaposed the memory of Baekhyun telling Chanyeol about the comic book so closely to him ogling Hyuna. The man on the cover of the book, the "muscled superhero, wearing red underwear on top of a tightly blue body suit", was what Chanyeol had opted to turn to as inspiration for finding his own definition of what it meant to be a man. He needed to be masculine and strong. And he needed to scoop up a love-interest. As primitive as it may seem, sexism was a thing back in the 1960s. To Chanyeol, this was the ideal life he was forced to believe in, to hold on to from before Chapter 1 to that moment.

 

But as you would imagine, idealising a superhero on a book was not realistic at all. I help emphasise this with the description of him "wearing red underwear on top of a tightly blue body suit", an overly cheesy portrayal of masculinity, no doubt. As with anything idealistic, Chanyeol's strive towards it was anything but sustainable and clear-headed.

 

This failure on Chanyeol's part is seen as he tries to stand up to the bully in an attempt to seem strong in front of his concerned love interest, but gets pushed against the lockers again. This also resulted in himself crying without himself realising it until he sees himself in the mirror. Being alienated and ostracised from young (seen from the classroom scene where everyone was doing the same thing and had the same surname. In fact, Chanyeol only ever refers to other people by surname, showing that he is neither comfortabe with other people enough to call them by their last name, nor is he able to see anyone as a "Park"; everyone is on the opposite side "Kim") Chanyeol had no idea how to react when Hyuna shows more and more concern for him. He does not stop for a while to think that maybe she is just concerned for him out of pity, or if she perhaps wanted to become his friend. Instead, he saw it as potential love sparking between them. We can see this mental process in action as he starts to call Hyuna Park Hyuna instead of Kim Hyuna; someone is finally on his side and he is unable to control his emotions (due to lack of social aptness and lack of father figure).

 

If you read in between the lines enough, you'd realise that Chanyeol had molested Hyuna, which is why she slaps him and how he snaps out of it. Also, he is in the girl's toilet, cus how else would Hyuna see him there. Whether he went in consciously knowing Hyuna would go after him, or went in with flurrying emotions is completely up to your interpretation. But the fact is, he molests Hyuna in the toilet. This is the link to Chanyeol's misinformed perception of love; we have the traditional moment where she compassionately offers some sort of salvation to Chanyeol, and it is the artmosphere he remembers his grandmother had outlined for him. But since the grandmother only kept repeating the beginning of her love with the grandfather (due to resentment towards the mother), Chanyeol misses out on the rest of this traditional love. Effectually, he turns to the second perception of love his mother had offered him; one of lust. And we all saw how that turned out; he does something immoral and is punished with a Kim Hyuna instead of a Park Hyuna. If you realise, this is symbolised by the comic book issues mentioned above; yes, Baekhyun does reveal that the hero gets the girl in the "next issue", but did you manage to catch exactly what number that issue would be. It is the number of the devil, 666. The rest is self explanatory.

 

To continue on to the last portion of the analyses, we much first establish what had happened in the last few scenes of the Chapter. I assume we are all in consensus that the mother dies after her eyes are gauged out in what we see to be Chanyeol's second encounter with the suited man from Chapter 1. It is extremely curious that the Chapter would end this way, judging from whatever had happened earlier. If you haven't already noticed it, let me give you the shock of your life:

 

The person who had killed the mother was not any suited man, it was the 14 year-old Park Chanyeol himself.

 

Gasp. But if you read the last part again, more carefully, you'll see that there was no other possible explanation of why Chanyeol stopped saying "the suited man" in favour of just calling him "He". More importantly, of course, is the fact that The Sandman is primarily narrated in first-person (and third person narrative some times). If the whole story is narrated in first person, why is it that the last part of Chapter 2 suddenely gives the readers a peer into the suited man's life?

"He scissored around in the socket. He relished the feeling, the feeling of taking someone’s eyes from their sockets to fill the void in his own. His eyes were taken from him too, once upon a time, in a fiery blaze that had killed his father, that had pushed his grandmother to suicide, that had forced him to live with his lying mother in the small, dark, claustrophobic, apartment. He felt empty, empty for so long."

This clearly exposits the background and expresses the feelings of the mother's perverted killer. You realise that this wouldn't have been possible if Chanyeol and the suited man were different people. Dread starts to flow in as you also realise that the "suited man's" biography is identical to Chanyeol's. All of this only points to one thing – Chanyeol was having an out-of-body experience as this suited man killing his mother (this is not to say the suited man in Chapter 1 was not real, though saying more about this would spoil the story).

 

Knowing this truth helps you finally establish the degree of Chanyeol's unreliable narration, if the previous chapter was not indication enough. It also acts as a conclusion to this Chapter; Chanyeol followed what he say to be the mother's way of love, and fails to get the happy ending he desired. Consequentially , he decides to kill his mother in an act of vengeance , disgust and hatred.

 

There, this is the interpretation of Chapter 2 I had as I wrote it. Of course, feel free to interpret it as you want. Again, please do give me feedback, whether its on some parts I could improve on or change, or its youre opinion on chapter analyses like these.

 

yaboi  
sunflowa *sunflower emoji*

**Author's Note:**

> HEY GUYSS that's the first chapter of The Sandman! I won't be posting an interpretation chapter for this chapter as it's the most open-ended one I'm planning for. Do ask me questions if you're doubtful of anything, and give me feedback on things I can work on! :3


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